


Crossroads

by itsallAvengers



Series: Listen up, Kid [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Because He Has No Desire To Watch Peter Fall Down The Same Hole As Him, Bullying, Peer Pressure, Peter Parker Also Needs A Hug, Tony Gives Serious Life Talks, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Underage Drinking, or at least vague mentions of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 04:18:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11592780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsallAvengers/pseuds/itsallAvengers
Summary: Tony finds Peter at a party he shouldn't be at, with people he shouldn't be with.He has a lot to say about it.





	Crossroads

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on tumblr about five minutes ago and then decided IT'S TIME TO POST MY FIRST GEN FIC ON AO3 TOO!  
> So. voila. Have a fic about Peter and Tony being angsty together like a real father-and-son pair they are

“Hey, Peter,” 

 

He froze, eyes widening as he heard the all-too-familiar sound of expensive leather brogues scuffing along the floor a few meters from him, and he turned quickly, brow furrowed into a deep V as he watched Tony wander up to him, all smiles and casual posture, hands buried in the pockets of his grease-stained jeans. He looked like he’d come straight from the workshop, stopping only to throw on a leather jacket along the way.

Why he was here at all, however, made no sense at all.

“T- Mr Stark,” Peter said, trying to communicate with him through eyebrow movements alone. If it turned out that he had to suit up and help out somewhere, he was pretty fucked, considering the fact he’d had a bit to drink at the party he’d been invited to.

Well. He said ‘a bit’. It was possibly more accurate to say ‘a fucking shit-ton’, but whatever.

Tony looked at him blankly, before shooting another smile toward the circle of people who were stood around Peter and staring quite blatantly at the both of them. “Hello, ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid I have to take Mr Parker away. He’s an intern at Stark Industries, you know how it is. Lots of work, yadda yadda, okay bye,”

And before Peter could even open his mouth, Tony had grabbed him by the arm and snatched the solo cup out of his hand almost angrily, pulling him away from the group of people and through the crowds of rowdy teenagers that littered the huge house.

“Uh, Mr Stark, wha’dd’ya want me  _for,_  exactly?” Peter asked, speaking loudly above the blaring music and wincing at how slurred his voice came out.

It had been a weird month, okay. He was just trying it out. 

Tony paused, and Peter saw him purse his lips even tighter before beginning to walk again, guiding Peter through the crowds and holding him tight as he stumbled a little.

“Hey, Parker, leaving so soon?” Flash called out from somewhere to his left, and Peter stopped turning to face him as the other boy wandered toward them. “We haven’t even begun yet, Jesus, are you a pussy or what-”

“Kid,” and suddenly Tony had let go, spinning around and walking up to Flash, who seemed to suddenly recognise who exactly Tony was, because his eyes went hilariously wide and he stumbled backward a few steps. Peter snorted involuntarily, and he saw Tony turn briefly, before shaking his head and looking back to Flash, “it seems like you’re having an absolute  _ball_ here, but I’m gonna say something and I’m only going to say it once.”

Tony looked down at Flash, eyes harsh as he drew a little closer. “Leave. Peter. Out of it. Do you understand? He is not here for you to manipulate, not here for you to  _bully_  into trying out crazy shit for your amusement-”

“Tony, what the fuck,” Peter blurted, frowning and stepping forward, more than a little put out. He’d only just managed to get accepted by Flash and all the other popular kids, and Tony was just going in, _ruining_ it all, “you’re not my dad- don’t tell me or my friends what I can and can’t do.”

Tony turned, eyebrows raised. “Friends?” He snorted, shaking his head and walking over to Peter once more, taking him by the arm. “You haven’t called in with Aunt May for two days now,” he hissed into Peter’s ear, “she’s worried sick. You are coming with me, right now.”

“No ‘m not,” Peter pushed his hand off, looking over at Tony in anger. “You are fucking….embarrassing me…. in fron’ of my friends-”

“They are  _not_  your friends!” Tony snarled, pulling his arm again, “your friends are all currently at home, worrying their asses off because this is not like you, Peter, and they didn’t know what to fucking do, so they ended up calling  _me_. Now you will fucking follow me out of this goddamn place right now, or  _I am hauling you out.”_

Tony looked absolutely furious, and Peter opened his mouth to snap back, but Tony shook his head. “Do not test me, Peter,” he warned. There was something about his tone that made Peter, even in his halfway-to-wasted state, know that Tony was not fucking around.

He got the sense he was going to be in deep shit with everyone when he left this building.

“I hate you,” he mumbled, keeping his head down and trying to ignore all the whispering teenagers as Tony walked through them all, firmly holding on to Peter’s arm as he went.

 

He felt humiliated. He’d just been at a party. What the fuck was wrong with that? And Tony had just barged in there and dragged him out like…like he was Peter’s fucking  _dad_  or something. 

And now everyone was whispering.

 

Tony ignored them all, Peter included as he pulled them outside into the drive where about ten different people were ogling his Audi. 

“Hey, Parker, I thought you were staying ‘til Aaron could fetch the-”

“I strongly advise- unless you want me to call the cops down here- that you do not finish that sentence,” Tony told the girl speaking, looking grim as he opened the passenger door and took Peter by the back of his collar, pushing him inside when he failed to do so on his own.

“Get the fuck off me!” Peter snapped, batting Tony’s hand away angrily and folding his arms, trying to stave off the sudden wave of nauseousness that had overcome him.

“If you’re going to hurl, do it out of the window,” was all Tony said in response, before slamming the door and walking over to the driver’s side.

Peter muttered various curses under his breath, refusing to open the windows. He didn’t want everyone to see him. They’d just laugh.

Tony slid in a moment later, refusing to look at Peter as he switched on the engine and reversed out. His face was like thunder.

 

They were silent for all of ten seconds, before Peter burst out “okay, what the fuck is your problem.”

“Don’t swear at me, kid,” Tony replied quietly, hands gripping tightly to the wheel as he still refused to turn and shoot Peter even a sidelong glance.

“No, no, I feel like I’m allowed t’ swear in a… in a situation such as this,” Peter gestured around him, eyes narrowed as he shuffled on his ass until he was head-on with Tony’s profile. “You had absolutely no right to do what you just did- you don’t fuckin’ control my life, and you can’t jus’… jus’ track me whenever you feel like being an asshole! Will you just LOOK AT ME!” Peter yelled angrily, suddenly wishing he wasn’t quite so drunk, because he could barely see Tony in front of him and the world was spinning to fast for him to keep up with-

 

Suddenly, Peter was yanked forward as Tony braked harshly, pulling over and stopping the car with a jarring halt. He turned, and finally looked Peter in the eye

“I didn’t track you.” Tony said, voice beginning to shake a little as he lost whatever semblance of calm he’d been holding on to before. “You wanna know what happened?  _Ned called me,”_

Fuck, Peter hadn’t seen him this furious since the Ferry Accident- Tony was practically vibrating in the car, fingers gripping the steering wheel like it was a damn lifeline. “I got a fucking call from your friend Ned at 2 in the God Damn morning, worried _sick_  because your stupid ass had drunk-dialled him and said a bunch of crazy shit to him about parties and alcohol and ‘finally having a shot at being one of the cool kids, Ned, it’s insane, Ned, they got all this weird stuff for me to do but  _I think it’s gonna be fun, Ned’.” T_ ony spat the last part like is was a curse, teeth gritted as he spoke through them.

Peter stopped, stomach slowly sinking. He… he couldn’t remember that one. Maybe he’d drank more than he thought.

“It was just a party,” Peter mumbled, “it’s not like you can talk. Everyone knows what you were like. So why the fuck are y-”

“Because you’re supposed to be _better_ than me!” Tony whispered, and it was quieter now, Tony seemed… like the fight had just drained out of him, anger replaced with something that just looked like hopelessness. “You’re not supposed to…. you don’t need to do this…. people fucking _care_ about you, you’ve got a reason not to….” he trailed off, shaking his head again before slamming his hands down on the wheel, anger returning almost as fast as it had dissipated. “I don’t know what the damn hell has gotten into you this past month, but it ends _here._  Now. And you do not go back down this road ever again, you understand?”

“You don’t get to tell me who I should and shouldn’t be,” Peter yelled right back, “I’m finally making some fucking friends, and you won’t stop m-”

“STOP CALLING THEM FRIENDS!”

Tony paused, shutting his eyes and rubbing a hand across his face. “You want to know what your ‘friends’ were chatting about when I stepped through the door? They were going to slip a nice little fucking K tablet into your next drink, just to see what you’d fucking do. They were aware of your crazy good athletics skills, and they thought it would be fucking  _funny_ to see you bouncing off the damn walls, high off your head.”

Peter froze. That…that couldn’t have been true.

Tony shook his head, smirking. It wasn’t a happy smirk, though. “Ketamine is garbage anyway. It just makes you see crazy shit and then you need to piss ten times in half an hour. They don’t even know their drugs well enough to pick the right one out, but they were more than willing to test them on you,” Tony shoved a finger into Peter’s chest.

There was silence; Tony staring grimly at Peter whilst he simply stared back, a little vacant. The words weren’t quite sinking in, and it seemed Tony was aware of that, because he just sighed again and pulled away. “I’m taking you home. You need to sleep whatever you have in your system off. Obviously you have a faster metabolism than most, so you should be fine, but I’ll-”

“Please don’t take me to Aunt May,” Peter blurted, suddenly aware of how upset it would make her if she saw him drunk off his ass on a Thursday morning. “Please, she… she’ll cry, and I don’… I don’ wanna upset her. please.”

Tony glared again, muttering something under his breath before starting the engine once more. “I said I’m taking you home, Peter, and I mean it. You brought this on. You deal with the fucking consequences.”

Peter felt a little like crying himself, to be honest. He’d been rather on edge the whole night, and really, this whole bust-up was just the icing on the fucking cake-

“I hate you,” he mumbled again, folding his arms and turning away so he was facing the window.

Lucky, really, because a second later, he threw up right out of it,

 

* * *

 

“This isn’ home,” Peter said, looking curiously out of the window as Tony pulled up into a massive garage full of cars, all costing more than Peter’s entire house.

 

“Nope,” Tony bit out, rolling to a stop in the nearest space and then pulling out the keys, slipping out of the door before Peter could even ask where they’d ended up.

The door Peter was leaning on suddenly gave way a moment later, and a hand shot out to catch him before he fell completely sideways. “Careful, kid- your reflexes have probably been muted by the alcohol. You’re gonna have to tread lightly, unless you plan on braining yourself on the tiles.”

“Urghhh,” Peter groaned, shutting his eyes and trying to ignore the steadily growing headache and desire to vomit again. “How’d’you ever do this,  _Christ.”_

He felt Tony tense a little beside him as he helped Peter up. “Practise, mixed with no one else around to help me up,” he said, voice hard as he stared straight ahead of him once more, a hand around Peter’s waist as he pulled Peter’s arm over his shoulder.

Thankful of the rest, Peter let Tony take his full weight, shutting his eyes against Tony’s shoulder. He was still mad, but… he was tired, too, and Tony was wearing a nice warm sweater which felt nice against his cheek. “So where are we?”

“Tower,” Tony replied curtly.

Peter frowned. “Didn’t you sell this place ages ago?”

“I put it on the market ages ago,” Tony corrected, as he hauled them both toward the elevator, “but I’ve yet to tie down any serious bidders. For now, it’s still mine.”

Peter grunted, opening his eyes. 

Fuck. Mistake.

“Hurrgh, f’ck, ‘m gonna-”

Tony barely managed to hold on to him as Peter’s legs gave out and he vomited again, retching up bile and the contents of his stomach once more.

It was gross and painful and Peter was really really tired, the whole night had gone sort of horribly and he was just  _so fucking frustrated-_

“Hey, hey, deep breaths. Get it all up, come on,” Tony spoke gently to his left, a hand rubbing soothingly against his back as he blinked back tears and threw up.

 

“Fuck,” he whispered again, once his stomach had quietened down. His arms were locked straight, but he felt the vague sensation as they began to buckle, and all he could think about was the mortifying concept of landing in a pile of his own vomit-

Something caught him by the back of his jacket, and he heard a grunt of exertion to his left again as Tony once more held tight and pulled him back up. It was softer than the last couple of times; more gentle and less angry, and when he was on his feet again, he felt the dizzy whirr as his head was pulled into a shoulder. Tony’s shoulder.

“Y’changed your tune,” Peter mumbled, as Tony brought his arms up and hugged Peter tightly.

“Oh, boy, if you think I’m not still furious, you got another thing coming,” Tony replied, “I’m just guessing you’ve been having a rough few weeks, that’s all.”

 

Peter bit his lip, letting weak arms clutch tight to the material of Tony’s sweater. “I’ve fucked up, haven’t I?”

 

Tony sighed, and squeezed a little tighter before letting go. “Yep. But we’re gonna fix it, okay? In the morning, though. For now- think you can walk?”

Peter nodded, but changed it to a shake as he looked at the route to the elevator. He could barely even see it; everything was spinning.

Tony huffed again. “Typical,” he said mutinously, before a sharp “if you vomit on me, I’m dropping you, capiche?”

Peter was just about to ask what he was talking about when suddenly Tony swept his legs out from underneath him, pulling him into an effortless bridal carry that would have been utterly mortifying in any other situation.

As it was, Peter was just glad he no longer had to face the challenge of having to make his legs agree with him anymore.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, head lolling back against Tony’s shoulder once more. “I didn’ mean what I said…before.”

Tony opened his mouth to speak, but deflated a second later, shaking his head once more. It seemed his damn neck hadn’t stopped moving since he’d laid eyes on Peter. “Yeah, kid, I know,” was all he replied with.

 

Peter didn’t remember anything else after that.

 

* * *

 

When he woke up, he was lying on the couch in what had been the Avenger’s communal living room, and Tony was curled up on the opposite armchair, watching daytime TV.

 

He tried to say something, but it only came out as an incoherent moan.

 

Tony’s head snapped over to him instantly, with what could almost be described as a battle-ready look in his eyes. “Peter? You okay, buddy?”

Unable to physically form the words without possibly projectile vomiting, he just nodded his head, curling a little further in on himself and shutting his eyes against the horribly blinding light of midday-

“Fuck!” Peter jerked, sitting up to the best of his abilities despite the horrific way his head complained. “I…school! Aunt May! I-”

“Called school, told them you needed a sick day. Called May, told her you’re with me,” Tony assured him, uncrossing his legs and getting to his feet. Wandering toward the coffee table, he bent down and picked up a glass of water, before twisting and offering it out to Peter. “Drink up” he ordered.

Peter eyed it a little dubiously. Tony just huffed in exasperation. “Believe me, kiddo, water is the best thing to take in this situation. Well- water and Advil, but you’d have to have more than the recommended dosage for it to work on you, and I don’t feel keen on putting anything else in that stomach of yours, so for now you’re just gonna have to tough it out. And drink up.”

Taking the glass in his hands, Peter took a tentative sip. His hands were still a little wobbly, but he felt better than he had last night, at least.

Tony was sat back on the armchair, staring at him. His eyes were dark and tired again- he didn’t look as if he’d slept at all last night.

 

Guilt sat heavy in Peter’s gut.

 

“You and me need to have a talk, buddy,” Tony said eventually, locking his fingers together and leaning forward, elbows resting on thighs. 

“It was just a party,” Peter said again; the same thing he’d told May the first time, the same thing he’d assured MJ the second time, the same thing he’d been yelling at Tony last night-

“Peter,”was all Tony said, voice quiet and eyes horribly understanding as he watched Peter’s ashen face from the couch.

There was silence for a few seconds, as Peter took another sip. 

 

 

“They’d been mean to me for so long, Tony. When they started inviting me places, I just… I just wanted to fit in. For once. Is that so bad?” He said, his voice all stupid and wobbly as he looked stubbornly at the coffee table.

 

 

There wasn’t a reply, but he heard another quiet sigh.

Of course Tony would be disappointed. They were so fucking different, Tony had never had this problem, he’d always been invited to the places, he’d always known the right people and talked the right talk and done the right thing, all the way through school.  Tony had never been laughed at, and even if he had, he would have just hit back ten times harder, taught them a lesson, not just stumbled over his words and blushed like a fucking idiot-

 

“I’m gonna tell you a story, Kid,” Tony said, and Peter jerked when he realised Tony had moved, and was now sliding down to the floor, his back up against the side of the couch. “And this is a real fitting story, full of good life lessons and morals, so listen up.”

Tony bit his lip, visibly appearing to steel himself as he took a harsh breath and stared ahead of him.

“There was a kid, once- shockingly similar to yourself in a lot of ways- who went through a pretty similar experience as you’re going through now, except maybe a year or two earlier,” he began, fingers tapping a nervous rhythm against the carpet as he spoke.

“He was too smart for everyone else, really. Not even in an egotistical sort of way- he just worked on a different level to everyone else. Too smart, too much stuff going on in his head, and just as much shit happening out of it. He was never normal. He never…got that part of life.” 

Tony’s nose wrinkled a little, and he pulled a face, “ugh, that sounds so fucking cringey, but just- just bear with me a second here, okay, I’m working on it-”

Peter, despite himself, giggled. “Take your time, I’m not exactly going anywhere.”

 Tony shot him a look, but it wasn’t one of disapproval, exactly- probably one sublevel down from that.

“Anyway,” he said, a little too loudly to be casual, “yeah. This kid, right. Really smart, but  _damn,_  did he make some fucked up choices. Choices that still stick with him today. Choices that are gonna stick with him for the rest of his life, because that’s the kind of fucked-up we’re talking here.”

Tony’s head leaned back against the side of the arm rest, and he stared at the ceiling. “He didn’t get on well at school, in the beginning. Graduated into college way too young, and no one took him seriously. If he wasn’t getting spat on by the older kids, he was just getting ignored. It sucked. And… and then, it seemed like things changed.”

 

Tony looked directly at him, and in that moment, Peter saw more of himself in Tony Stark than he’d ever seen in anyone else. “They invited me to a stupid party down at some girl’s house, Peter, and they told me I’d make loads of new friends if I made enough people laugh.”

 

 

_“Come on, Parker- there’s a party downtown tonight, and people have been wondering if you wanna go. Might be a new chance for you to make some cool friends.”_

_“If you act like them, maybe they won’t be dicks to you.”_

_“Come on, it’s just one drink. Don’t be a loser.”_

 

“So I went,” Tony continued, “I went down there and I made damn sure everyone knew my name by the end of the night. I did everything they asked me to- i drank everything they shoved in my face, smoked whatever blunt they passed ‘round, fucked whoever wanted to be fucked, because I was  _so damn desperate_  to be like them. To be accepted.” 

Tony stopped, shaking his head and then looking over to Peter. 

“Once you’re in that cycle, Peter, you don’t leave it. Ever. The drink? Drugs? It stops being something you do for fun. You realise it’s the only thing that can make you into the person you want to be, can make your brain just fucking shut up for a second and let you enjoy yourself. It becomes a necessity. I know more geniuses who have some sort of addiction than I know supervillains. And believe me, there are a lot of supervillains.”

 

Peter opened his mouth, unsure of what exactly to say, but wanting to try anyway. Tony, however, put up a finger to silence him, obviously not finished with his speech.

 

“Now here’s where our paths diverge,” he said, making a fork shape with his hands and looking up at Peter seriously. “You have only just touched upon this world. And you already know it’s not what it’s cracked up to be, right? So what you are going to do is step the fuck back. Re-evaluate. Learn from my mistakes, and stick with people who really care. Because you  _have that,”_  he said, almost like a plead, his face pained as he looked up at Peter from the floor. “You have people who are really there, for  _you_. And Jesus, Peter, you gotta hold on to that with everything you got. That doesn’t come around often.”

“I know,” Peter said quietly, thinking fondly of Ned’s soft smile, or MJ’s persistently un-amused left eyebrow, always raised in judgement. “I know.”

Tony stopped- everything except his fingers, anyway- and stared at Peter for a long time before saying “If you continue, I’ll kill you. Seriously, I won’t watch you do that to yourself. Ever. You’re so much more than that.”

“You managed okay, in the end,” Peter said, mostly to himself. “Just, out of curiosity, what exactly would you do?”

Tony pointed a finger immediately to the window. “Well, for starts, there’d be no more swinging around New York in your fancy suit. I wouldn’t trust teenage me with an Ironman Suit if you paid me, and that applies to you, too. Also, you quite clearly can’t handle your drink, if last night was anything to go by, so it’s not like you’d be fit to go fighting villains whilst in that state.”

“Hey, in all fairness, I did have a hell of a lot yesterday,” Peter defended himself.

 although from the glare Tony sent him, he guessed it would have been better to keep his mouth shut. 

“Not something to be proud of, Pete,” he warned, getting to his feet and stretching. “God, I’m tired. You know how stressful it is, staying up all night to make sure your idiot kid doesn’t choke on his own vomit,”

 

Peter froze. So did Tony.

 

“You know what I meant,” Tony stammered, waving a hand across his face and acting nonchalant as he stepped off in the direction of the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Peter smiled, unable to stop the warm feeling that was spreading through his heart. “I know what you mean.”

Tony made a few more indignant-sounding noises from the kitchen, and there were a few bangs of cupboards before Tony finally declared; “we officially have no food. Although, that’s not a surprise. No one lives here, after all.”

At the mention of food, his stomach gave a betraying growl which felt almost as painful as the headache. Peter was pretty sure Tony heard it from all the way in the kitchen, because there was yet another sigh of exasperation.

“Because I am a brilliant person, I will go and grab us some breakfast. Or lunch. Whatever,” Tony said, stepping back out into the living room and grabbing his wallet from the table. “Remote’s on the table. Phone in my jacket pocket. Apology phone-calls strongly suggested. Thanks to my quite frankly stunning persuasion skills, Aunt May isn’t expecting you back until later tonight, so you have time to relax and pull through the hangover before your ultimate demise when she does finally get hold of you.”

Tony stopped by his side, and looked down at him, squeezing his shoulder tight. “Don’t do that to me again, Peter. Please.”

Peter nodded. “I promise.” 

 

He meant it.


End file.
